


Knocked Up and Locked Up

by Willsblackstag



Category: Hannibal (TV), hannigram - Fandom
Genre: Alpha Will Graham, Alpha/Omega, Anal Fisting, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Breeding, Feral Will Graham, Fisting, Fluff and Angst, Hannibal in heat, Hannibal's tummy in prison jumpsuit, Helpless Hannibal, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Omega Hannibal Lecter, Omega Verse, PWP, Pregnant Hannibal Lecter, Protective Will Graham, Top Will Graham, Unplanned Pregnancy, Will doesn't know, Will visits Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:47:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28959690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willsblackstag/pseuds/Willsblackstag
Summary: Oneshot omegaverse PWP inspired by @ahooel's hilarious Incorrect Hannibal series on Twitter!Namely, THIS! https://twitter.com/ahooel/status/1340027289472552960?s=21
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 24
Kudos: 176





	Knocked Up and Locked Up

**Author's Note:**

> __

**_Past_. Florence. Evening.**

Having drugged Will, Hannibal cleans him up. Dresses him. It’s true he ought to be struggling with the close proximity. The forced physical contact and half embraces when he manoeuvres the man. The overpowering scent making it almost impossible not to look down at the generous shape of him beneath the tenting material of his shorts and feel his own body responding accordingly. Had Will not tried to stab him on the streets, Hannibal would probably have let the other take him then and there in some alleyway before they’d even made it back to the apartment. Such is the tendency of his wayward heart to hope for something a little more than one-upmanship and revenge. Once achieved, one simply walks away. But not if you’re joined. He would’ve let Will stab him this way, knowing the other wouldn’t be able to physically escape him without causing them both harm. The hope would be for Will not to wish to. Back in the gallery, his talk about being conjoined had been the real culprit. Breathing life back into that deep yearning that burns perpetually like a candle inside Hannibal. Thus distracted, he forgot to take blockers. And what happened next had not been a careful calculation on his behalf. 

**_Now_. Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.**

Opening his eyes, he finds himself staring at the wall. His jumpsuit feels tight in all the wrong places. A sensation he has been trying to get used to as the weeks passed. It’s coming up to the third month. He has just learnt about Will’s marriage to a woman with a son. As though the man couldn’t wait to father his own, desperate as he is to surround himself with family. Any family. His hand creeps idly onto the rounded distention of the jumpsuit. The vengeful part of him believes in keeping the child, just to spite Will. But the larger part of him has been worn down by disappointment, even though he had remained patient after the first month. When he believed he had come to terms with Will’s rejection at Wolf Trap.

The memory of feeling so proud of himself for having saved his mate, the father of the life he is carrying. So buoyant was his mood, it had been on the tip of his tongue as he sat in the chair, waiting for Will to wake up. Something he could announce with a strange and newfound pride despite having lamented not being born an Alpha ever since he became self-aware. Then Will said those things that he can’t bring himself to repeat, unless he wishes to chide himself for the hundredth time. _Words are nothing to a searing brand._ He should have left. But he couldn’t bring himself to part from his mate who didn’t even want him. So he turned himself in. Hoping Will would change his mind. _For shame_.

He hears a door opening and regrets he cannot make his belly go down the same as his arousal – for even now, his mind continues to torment him with that night in Florence. Footsteps approach the glass. He doesn’t move.

“You have a visitor tomorrow.”

At the sound of her voice, he rolls slowly onto his back. His hands clasped over his stomach, just above the subtle swell of his belly.

“Who is it?” he asks, watching Alana with a casual tilt of his head while his traitorous heart begins to race.

“Someone you’ve been waiting for,” she answers. Hannibal studies her new suit and confident poise. The lofted brows as she regards him with cool contempt. Yet, he suspects she is still capable of being moved.

“I don’t wish to see him,” he says, eyes falling to a half close.

“Tough.”

“I suppose the thought of my humiliation gives you pleasure.”

“Unspeakable pleasure.”

He hums, lowering his gaze.

“I am not accustomed to begging, Alana,” he says quietly.

“How the mighty has fallen,” he hears her exhale, and believes there could be a modicum of pity in her voice. Swallowing, he licks his lips as he continues to watch the floor.

“All I ask is for him not to know.”

A pause before he adds, “I wish to request a termination.”

For a moment, Alana is quiet. Then:

“If you are sure.”

“I am.”

“I shall pass on your request.”

He looks up at her with his best crocodile tears. Perhaps he is fooling even himself by believing them to be.

“I promise to behave if you don’t tell him.”

Alana responds by giving him a look as though to say _do you even know what behaving is?_ But, as he had suspected, there is mercy to be found in those blue eyes.

The night before Will is due to arrive at the hospital, Hannibal goes through how he will conduct himself in front of the other. Lying on his back upon the bed, he reads over the paper in his hand, going through the list he’d scribbled down. _Smile_. _Remain_ _amiable throughout. Pretend he is just another journalist. Don’t let bitterness show. Don’t ask about his wife and child_. He stares at the words until it’s lights out, knowing fine well it’s not going to help one bit when he sees his face again.

Perhaps the list should have been titled _Do the opposite of the following_. 

“Your hands are rough,” he hears himself saying. “I smell dogs and pine and oil beneath that shaving lotion. It’s something a child would select, isn’t it? There a child in your life, Will?”

_Stop.  
_

“I’m here about Chicago and Buffalo,” says Will. “You’ve read about it, I’m sure.”

Hannibal tries to compensate for his lack of restraint by commenting on paper clippings and the scissors denied him instead, as much as he continues to be galled by that expression and the refusal to address him by his first name. _I’m more comfortable the less personal we are_ , Will had said. He should have just agreed, even though they’d both see through the lie.

“Thought you would have some ideas,” the other continues to say, and Hannibal feels himself bristling beneath the jumpsuit again at the no-nonsense tone. Suggesting the man had only intended a quick in-out visit. Which would be for the best, of course. But his sudden susceptibility to his own emotions surprises even himself, and he can’t think of anything else to blame but his hormones. _Why couldn’t he have come after the procedure?_

“You just came here to look at me,” he says, unable to help himself. “Came to get the old scent again.” He thinks of Florence. Of Will panting against his nape. “Why don’t you just smell yourself?”

“I expected more of you, doctor.”

_As did I._

“That routine is old hat,” Will continues to say.

“Whereas you are a new man.”

_Say it because it’ll hurt.  
_

“Are you a good father, Will?”

 _It’s what you deserve for being such a fool_.

“Let me have the file,” he adds quickly, not wanting to hear Will’s answer to the question he already regrets asking. “An hour, and we can discuss it like old times.”

The file is pushed through the document tray. Hannibal steps closer. Hears Will utter his thanks and says what he knows he will spend hours regretting once he is alone again. Family values. Helping your family. Then:

“You’re family, Will.”

Everything that he shouldn’t have said, he’d ended up saying. At least he doesn’t try to stop Will from leaving as the man walks away.  
  
When Alana returns, he tells her he’s changed his mind about having the procedure.

“Did seeing him give you hope?” she says cynically.

“Does he know?” he asks, eyes on the pages of the book sat open in his lap.

“He said you’re too comfortable here,” she answers. “Thinks you’re gaining weight.”

“How rude.”

Pause.

“So why did you change your mind?”

“Will hates that he needs me to solve cases,” he says without looking up. “I think he would hate seeing I’m needed for more than that.”

“Sounds more like you’re reviewing your sense of self-worth,” she says archly.

“It’s nice to feel needed, Alana. I’m sure one day you will understand this yourself.” 

A pause, followed by the sound of her retreating footsteps and the quiet utterance of _bitch_ under her breath.

“Do you call all your omegas that?” he says.

“Just you,” she answers before leaving him smiling to himself and resting his hand on his belly.  
  


**_Fast forward_. House on clifftop. Evening.**

Coming through with the wine, he sees Will stood at the window, watching out into the night. Tells the man he’s playing games with himself in the dark while he cleans three glasses. _It was three when Abigail was still with us. Three now, without you knowing_. They talk about Francis Dolarhyde, but his mind is on something else. Correcting Will on his comment made to Alana regarding his apparent weight gain, mainly. Especially when the man goes on about watching him being changed by the Great Red Dragon, and not bothering to save himself. What kind of an Alpha refuses to fend for the Omega bearing its young, let alone spout allusions to suicide? _A lost one, that’s what_ , he thinks to himself. _I can fix that, Will_. _As long as you stop trying to get me – all of us – killed_. 

“No greater love hath man than to lay down his life for his wife and child,” he says.

“…what?”

Hannibal looks up from cutting the seal on the wine bottle to the confused frown on the other’s face. _Quick, before he thinks Molly and Walter are in danger_.

“I’m pregnant, Will,” he says, hands falling still as he watches the furrow in that brow deepen. “Florence,” he adds at the sight of Will’s mouth falling open with a silent _when_? The one word answering the who and where, and possibly why. _Instinct_ would be the natural answer to the latter. _Rape_ , its lawful term. Will continues to stare uncomprehendingly at him, so he takes a step closer. Reaches out with a hand to take the other’s in his own. Is about to place it on his belly when the bottle shatters in his other hand, and he looks down to see blood saturating his shirt.

Thankfully, Will’s Alpha instincts kick in at the sight of his injury, to the point where his fight with Dolarhyde – clearly the bigger Alpha by stature – soon lands Will on precarious ground. Namely, the edge of the cliff. Hannibal’s first attempt to help had resulted in him being thrown with such force, he’d ended up rolling across the floor. Picking himself up now, he feels heat seeping down his leg. Knows it can’t be a good sign, but continues to creep up on the enemy. Caught off guard when jumped on from behind, the Dragon releases Will to take him on.

Catching his breath, Will sees Dolarhyde losing his footing in the struggle with Hannibal. Feels it being knocked out of his lungs as he watches the Dragon fall with Hannibal still in his arms. _No_. Will lunges, but his hand grabs the empty air left behind by their plummeting bodies.  
  


**Cabin in an undisclosed area. Evening.**  
  
Having survived the fall, they must now spend some time recovering from their injuries in a cabin located in the middle of nowhere. Their one connection to the outside world the same person who helped them reach their temporary safehouse – Chiyoh. When they first arrived, Will had been frantic with worry, and Chiyoh had to prise Hannibal from his grasp before she could give him medical assistance while Will hovered and paced around them restlessly, mostly just getting in the way. He had been numb to his own injuries as he watched her stem the blood from Hannibal’s bullet wound. Anything else had to wait. Just as he then had to wait having helped her move Hannibal onto the bed. Had protested when she tried to shut the door on him, yet relented when she said his presence would be useless for this part. Still, he had insisted he could help, only to have the door shut firmly in his face. The next time it opened, Chiyoh came out carrying something covered over by a bloody towel. She told him he could go in, then carried on through the cabin. Will had watched her until she disappeared from sight, then dragged himself off the settee and into the open doorway of Hannibal’s room. Stood at the threshold, he’d watched down at the man lying unconscious on the bed. Was hit by a sudden and overwhelming tide of remorse, and would have wept had Chiyoh not returned and ordered him to sit down so she could see to his injuries.

Chiyoh leaves, and Will stays close by Hannibal’s side. For a while, he is left alone with his thoughts. Trying his hardest to remember what happened after he got shot on the streets of Florence and carried into an apartment. He’d seen snatches of it in his dreams since then, all warped and incoherent. The sound of breathing. A vague sense of excitement. Nothing he can really make clear heads and tails of.

“So we survived.”

At the weak sound of his voice, Will looks up to see Hannibal watching him with half drawn eyes, and lowers his own to the flat surface of the cover pulled over the other’s body. As though able to feel his gaze, Hannibal moves a hand onto his stomach.

“Ah,” he says quietly. “Not all of us.” Without giving Will a chance to speak, he continues to say, “You have always been susceptible to guilt where there’s innocents concerned. Now that there’s no innocent, you are free to return to your family.”

Not knowing what to say, Will doesn’t say anything. He sits there, watching over Hannibal until the man falls back asleep.

Weeks go by and, with Will looking after him, Hannibal starts to regain his strength. Not a single night passes, however, without the man suffering from nightmares. Sleeping on the settee with the bedroom door open, Will can hear the sound of Hannibal tossing and turning in his sleep. It gets worse until, unable to just lie there listening, Will gets up and makes his way over. Climbing into the bed, he holds onto the other from behind. At first, Hannibal continues to struggle until the straitjacket of Will’s arms finally takes effect, and the man slowly begins to fall still. When he does, Will gradually lets go and moves away to fall asleep on what is now his side of the bed. In the morning, he wakes up first and climbs out of bed to make breakfast. Whether or not Hannibal knows about him sharing the bed, Will continues to do this every following night. Sometimes, his hand will slip down to rest gently over the other’s belly, the touch sparking another pang of regret to wash over him anew.

Hannibal is aware of Will sleeping in the same bed. At first, he had welcomed the physical contact which came as a pleasant remedy for the strange emptiness he was experiencing post-miscarriage. Upon realising he had lost track of time, however, he starts to believe Will’s behaviour could be influenced by an approaching pre-heat. One night, lying awake to such thoughts, he ends up pulling away from his one source of comfort. Afraid that should he become too comfortable, he would inevitably find its absence later difficult to bear.

“You should leave,” he murmurs into the dark as he pulls himself closer to the edge. “You might be reacting to a pre-heat. I don’t have the aid of blockers. You should go before it affects you further.” Lying there on his side, he watches the moon through the gap in the drawn curtains. Can feel Will’s eyes on his back.

“I can’t remember what happened,” he hears the man murmur quietly behind him. “That night in the apartment.” 

“I’d forgotten to take blockers,” Hannibal begins quietly to explain. “The drug I administered likely removed your inhibitions. You became aroused, thinking it was something in the soup when you were simply responding to my heat.”

“What happened?”

“You became increasingly aggressive. Breaking free of your restraints.”

He remembers the sound of Will running into the kitchen. Recalls how he was about to turn around when the man pressed himself flush against his back, pinning him against the edge of the worktop. His heavy breaths blowing hot against the back of his ear. His arousal digging into him. When he looked back over his shoulder, he saw the whites of Will’s eyes. Knew he was delirious with the need to rut.

“I didn’t try to stop you,” he continues to say, remembering how he knew resistance would be futile with instinct overriding logic, and instead of fighting it, he had braced himself against the worktop as Will tore down his trousers and underwear. Felt his body paving the way for penetration. His first time with a male Alpha. An occasion he will always associate now with cold marble as he clung on to the worktop while Will rutted like he was possessed. Slamming him into the edge hard enough to leave bruises. Trapping him against it as he suddenly surged forward with his hands clawing at Hannibal’s cheeks. Forcing them apart and out of the way. Even with slick gushing out of him, his body had struggled to take Will’s knot, and in his impatience, the other had pressed and rammed Hannibal brutally until – all of a sudden – he was buried to the root up his passage. The abrupt pressure of Will’s entire knot in his rectum had made his knees buckle as he came like he’d never done before – with the wonderful sensation of being filled by Will’s hot and plentiful ejaculate. The euphoric feeling of being complete had been so intense, he hadn’t even realised they had fallen onto the floor. Lying there still in the midst of the heat haze, he had been vaguely aware of Will’s damp body on top of him. His Alpha’s knot still beating against his walls as he drifted off feeling truly sated for the first time in his entire life.

“I’m sorry if a hurt you,” says Will, the hushed sound of his voice bringing him back to the present and his aroused state.

“I wanted it,” he half whispers. “It was consensual.” 

After learning he had – by the sounds of it – forced himself on Hannibal, Will experiences mixed feelings of shame and desire. And while it’s true the latter could be exacerbated by an impending heat, it is not what’s keeping him here. Although Hannibal seems to think so.

Will learns it’s the first day of Hannibal’s three day heat when he finds the other has shut and locked the bedroom door. That, and he finds himself growing suddenly restless and desperate to remain close to Hannibal. Unlike what happened in Florence, however, he has not been drugged, and is not behaving like a wild animal. Rather, he hasn’t taken to humping the door between them – yet. Instead, he humps the pillows on the settee while thinking of Hannibal. He does it many times throughout the night, until he finally falls asleep from exhaustion. In the morning, he has to deal with the mess and doesn’t know whether to feel disgusted or impressed by the sheer volume.

Come evening time, Will approaches the door, ignoring his raging hardon to ask if Hannibal has enough food and water. When he doesn’t get a reply, he tries calling his name a few more times. Growing concerned, he slips outside to peep on the other through the window. The gap in the curtains shows Hannibal lying on the floor, facing away. Worried, he hurries back inside and, without thinking, kicks down the bedroom door. As he crosses the threshold, he calls out to the other whilst moving to the spot he had seen the man lying in just seconds ago. Finding it empty, he turns his eyes on the bed. Lowers himself onto his hands and knees. Looks under to find Hannibal curled up on his side.  
  
“What are you doing?” Will asks quietly.  
  
“That’s close enough,” Hannibal utters. His eyes are wet. As are other parts of his body, Will suspects. The scent of him is intoxicating.  
  
“Are you just going to hide under the bed all day?”  
  
“Yes.”

Will takes a deep breath with intentions of grounding himself, only to breathe in more of the haze. He isn’t used to seeing the man looking so ashamed and needy at the same time. Feels himself growing even more aroused as he crawls closer. Grunting and struggling ensues until Will manages to drag Hannibal out from under the bed and into his arms. Ignoring the frenzy threatening to explode from the sensation of his penis brushing against the other through his garments, Will refuses to do anything beyond holding the man close. After the initial bout of resistance, Hannibal soon falls limp within his arms as though too paralysed to fight. His skin damp with sweat. His hair plastered across his eyes.

“At least I get to have you for another day,” he pants softly with his chin on Will’s shoulder. “Until you can think straight again.”

“I haven’t been thinking straight since you came into my life,” Will murmurs. “Even when I surround myself with good company, all I think about is you. I thought it was anger at first…”

Hannibal chuckles breathily.

“It’s cruel that you’re thinking your clearest now while I’m drowning in heat haze,” he sighs.

“I’m drowning in your scent, but I just wanted you to know,” Will utters.

“I suppose you were named aptly, for all your willpower…”

“It took a lot to keep me away,” he says, thinking of Hannibal’s cell. “But it’s hopeless,” he adds, voice dropping to a half whisper.

“Leave me,” pants Hannibal, sounding increasingly delirious. “I can’t take it…”

Holding tighter onto his sweating body, Will closes his eyes with a swallow.

“Me neither,” he exhales, suspecting the other wouldn’t resist if he forced himself on him now. _It’s too soon_. Instead, he hauls Hannibal up onto his feet. Leaves him standing there to lay down a fresh towel before helping him onto the bed. As he straightens up, he looks down at Hannibal lying on his back, drenched in sweat. His arousal trapped inside his shorts that, utterly soaked through, cling to him like a second skin. Looking up, he sees dark eyes staring heavy lidded at the front of his trousers. Sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as he feels himself pulsating under that voracious gaze. Realises his hands have curled into fists at his sides.  
“Shout if you need any-” he begins to say, before stopping himself. _You know what he needs_. “More water,” he says instead.  
  
Despite his laudable display of self-control, however, Will knows he can’t take another day of Hannibal’s heat. So he calls Chiyoh even though he is loath to bring the presence of another Alpha into Hannibal’s proximity. Would fight her – or any Alpha – tooth and nail if they tried anything, though he suspects she is far too composed an individual to descend into such animalistic behaviour.

When she arrives, Will watches her like a hawk as she checks in on Hannibal as though he is simply enduring a fever. The woman doesn’t even flare her nostrils once. Perhaps, Will thinks to himself, he had read her wrong, and that she is in fact an Omega. Closing the bedroom door behind her, she looks down at him impassively.

“It’s rather impressive,” she says. “Your self-control.”

Lowering his gaze, he maintains his hunkered down position as he sits there on the settee. His arms wrapped around himself.

“It’s becoming unbearable, actually…” he admits reluctantly.

“Painful, almost.”

“…yes.”

“I can give you something to ease your torment.”

_Drugs?  
_

He looks up.

“Is that what you’re giving him?”

Chiyoh regards him woodenly.

“I’m going to fuck Hannibal with a dildo, leaving it inside him.”

Flushing hot with irrational jealousy, Will flexes his jaw at that cool stare. Grips harder at his own biceps as he feels his dick twitch with outrage. Tells himself he will _not_ throw the woman and her nasty bag of sex toys out of the cabin.

“Or,” she says with a lofting of her eyebrows, “you can give him what he needs.”

Sticking her hand into the holdall, she pulls out a packet and throws it at him. Catching it between his hands, he looks down at the box wrapped in cellophane. Alpha condoms. XL.

“You’re the only one who can,” he hears her adding before her footsteps make their way to the front door.

As soon as Chiyoh has left, Will gets up and hurriedly takes off his clothes, finally feeling like he can breathe when he’s standing there stark naked. Clasping the box, he watches the cellophane steam up instantly from the heat of his hand as he tears it open. Snatches one of the foil packets and shreds it in his haste before rolling the latex sleeve down his sex as it twitches and oozes precum in protest.

Sheathed and aching, he walks up to the bedroom door. Plants a clammy hand against its surface and pushes it open. Hannibal is curled up on his side upon the tossed bed. The towel beneath him already a shade darker as he lies there panting shallowly. The room is dim, but there’s enough natural light entering through the gap in the curtains to reflect off the fine layer of perspiration covering the man’s skin. Nostrils flaring at the sight and smell of him, Will shoves the door shut and stalks towards the bed. Drawing close, he notices Hannibal’s lack of response as he continues to lie there, seemingly oblivious to Will and the rivulet of saliva slipping past his own lips as he stares through his lashes at the wall. Then, a movement in his arm draws Will’s attention, and he scrambles onto the bed. Grabbing Hannibal’s knee, he rolls him onto his back. Opens his legs to see his Omega’s pitiful attempt to fist himself. Releasing a breath, he stares at that streaming hole struggling to choke down the last knuckles of those buried digits. Gulps convulsively as he feels his knot hardening tenfold.

“Don’t,” he hears Hannibal pant weakly before a hand is pushed abruptly into his face. The smell of his slick floods Will’s senses, pushing him into overdrive until, with a feral growl, he snaps at those fingers. Sucks them deep into his mouth and bites until Hannibal grimaces in pain and grabs his curls with his other hand.

“I’m going to breed you,” he grunts, hooking his arms under those thighs and staring down at that lost expression as he drags his mate down the covers. Reaching the edge of the bed, he grabs the soft planes of Hannibal’s inner thighs. Pins them back forcefully as he leans down. Lines up. And pushes against his dripping entrance. He hears Hannibal beginning to hyperventilate and, panting raggedly himself, arches his back and bears down harder. Feels his curls being pulled taut by the other’s fingers as he comes close to breaching his tiny hole.

“Ngh!”

The sound of Hannibal’s uncharacteristic whimper makes the animal strain inside Will’s skin, and he grabs him by the waist the same time his hips move on their own accord – bucking hard to finally spear his whole head past the tight ring of his anus.

“Ah!”

“Mnph!”

Once in, the animal breaks free.  
  
The huge head of Will’s penis paves the way for his lengthy shaft as he falls immediately to rutting. His hips snapping furiously back and forth to open Hannibal up and release fresh waves of excitement that squelch loudly as Will butts his knot against him with each rapid thrust. Eyes falling half closed and mouth falling open to his labouring breaths, he stares down at the dishevelled, incoherent mess that is Hannibal. Those hooded eyes barely open as the man stares down past their heaving chests to Will’s knot. Wrapping his hands around Hannibal’s throat, Will squeezes to draw the attention of that feverish gaze. _Look at me_. 

“Will,” he splutters breathlessly.

 _I’m going to give you my knot_. 

“Don’t,” Hannibal struggles to utter as though he’d heard his thought, his black eyes half rolling into the back of his head as Will continues to fuck him. The urge to tear off the condom crowds the forefront of his mind. To give him his seed. To impregnate him again. _No_. _It’s too soon_. 

“Please,” the other gasps, looking too delirious to know what he’s even pleading for, yet Will obliges instinctively. Dragging Hannibal’s legs onto his shoulders, he grabs him once more by the waist, his fingers gripping sweating skin with bruising force as he pulls that willing body onto his knot the same time he braces his feet against the ground and uses them as leverage to push. He bears down hard with all his weight. Feels that body opening up beautifully for him. Feels the whole of him slotting into place inside that hot passage. Feels Hannibal clenching in orgasm as he arches off the bed with a desperate cry.  
  
Opening his eyes, Hannibal forgets where he is. Then it hits him. The sensation of a knot straining inside his rectum. His stretched entrance sore and swollen. In the midst of his heat, he had joked about Will staying until he had slaked his lust. Now, as he sobers up, he lies there on the soiled bed in the dim, afraid of being abandoned. Especially if the other has managed to impregnate him again.

He stirs from the sensation of hands pushing against his chest, and opens his eyes to see Hannibal avoiding his gaze.

“Please get off,” the man utters, and Will leans up on his elbows to give the other some breathing space.

“I can’t,” he says. With his knot still inside Hannibal, they’d only cause each other harm if they tried to separate too soon. So they lie there in silence for a while. Will on top of Hannibal. Waiting for those dark eyes to look at him.

“I wore a condom if it makes you feel better,” he says gently.

“It must have split,” says Hannibal in a hushed voice. “I felt your seed filling me up.”

Pause.

“I’ll check when we’ve detached,” he says quietly, waiting again before adding, “Do you remember what I said yesterday? About visiting you?”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

He sees Hannibal licking his lips before swallowing. His hooded eyes remaining downcast.

“It’s not gentlemanly to toy with an omega during their heat.”

“I personally find it hard to lie in that state,” says Will.

“You called me hopeless,” says Hannibal, looking up.

“Not you. The situation.”

Black eyes look down again. Sad.

“Ah.”

“It’s hopeless because I jumped off the cliff after you.”

Slowly, Hannibal looks up again.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you even when I’m with Molly.”

“That’s because she’s an Alpha.”

Smiling despite himself, Will lids his eyes at the retort as he pushes up on an elbow and leans his head against his hand.

“And because even if you had a litter of ten, I’d be forced to stick around.”

“Sure,” the man scoffs softly. “I’ll be at the opera.”

As soon as the words have left his lips, however, Hannibal looks down again. Takes his time searching for the next words.

“I know I’ve been cruel,” he says defensively with his chin lifted. “I have no right to beg for your forgiveness or mercy.”

Will watches down at him without interrupting. At the faint furrowing in that brow.

“But I refuse to spend my next heats, or evenings soothing our offspring, pining for these pretty pictures you’re painting. If this is your idea of reckoning-” He pauses to swallow. “I won’t have it,” he half whispers as the dark depths of his eyes begin to waver. Will studies that face for a beat longer. Haughty and turned to the side because there’s no other way the man can escape him. Taking a deep breath, Will slumps against Hannibal. His head on his shoulder.

“…you’d think a mate who offers to babysit the hoard so the other can socialise with arrogant assholes would be considered a keeper,” he sighs.

Pause.

“Arrogant assholes,” echoes Hannibal.

“Rich bastards who smell and look good. Flocking around you when it’s time,” Will mutters.

“You think me a hussy.”

“It’s instinct.”

“So what will you do?” Hannibal asks, sounding amused.

“Call Chiyoh to babysit while I hunt you down and bring you home,” Will scoffs.

“If I refuse to come home?”

“I’d just have to take you then and there. And you can deal with the embarrassment of being carted out the opera stuck to me.”

“Or I could drive us back whilst sitting in your lap.”

“I’d be driving. You’d be sitting there, drooling.”

“I don’t drool.”

Lifting his head, Will takes Hannibal’s chin in hand. Gazes upon him with lidded eyes.

“You do. Profusely. Like a baby. I just licked you clean.”

Fair lashes lowering, Hannibal watches back.

“Are you taking care of me, Will…?” he whispers, impassive expression masking the lingering fear that Will knows will take time to eradicate. Taking a breath and releasing it long and slow, he moves his hand up to clasp the sharp crest of Hannibal’s cheekbone.

“Yes,” he whispers back. Then leans in to touch his lips with his own.  
  



End file.
